Stolen Petals
by Elimere
Summary: Amy is a PI in training. She's enjoying her job but sudden bad news calls her back home. Before she knows it, she's caught up in a case of her own, tracking down leads and investigating suspects. But is she up to the task when lives are on the line? And can she keep her head together when an unexpected potential romance draws her attention? AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Faking It, the characters and all associated with the show does not belong to me in any way shape or form. This story, however, does.

 **Warning:** The following story includes content some may find offensive. If you are of weak mind, do not read. Rating may change

* * *

 **Chapter One**

I could see him standing on the floor above me, outside the motel room with his arms wrapped around the dark haired bimbo, kissing her with _way_ too much enthusiasm. Watching them was making me want to heave, but instead I snapped a few photos. I zoomed in and, not _really_ needing a close up shot of the white lace curtain in front of my window, focused my camera again so that their faces became sharp. I snapped several more pictures of their disgusting tongue dance and grimaced. As far as field work went, this was pretty standard and not especially hard, but it _was_ rewarding catching the cheating bastards in the act. The guy grabbed the door and I continued shooting them as they entered the room.

"Shit." I swore to myself. "Shit shit _shit!_ " I cursed again and once more in the amount of time it took for me to rush around the room collecting all the crap that had spread out in the last few hours and shove it all into my bag before running out the door. I managed to close it soundlessly but stumbled a bit trying to rush up the stairs. My bag landed on the stair in front of me and I picked it up as I continued to force myself forward. And of course I ran smack bang into the wall at the top of the stairs, unable to slow myself in my hurry. I pushed myself off just as quickly, launching down the corridor toward the door where they'd disappeared. I stood for a second, catching my breath and placed an ear to the door. I could hear muffled voices, but not much else. I had to catch them in the act and, if possible, naked. I pulled a rolled up leather pouch out from my bag and selected two long metal picks. As I fitted them into the lock, I could hear moaning from inside the room and smirked.  
 _That's right, you cheating bastard,_ I thought to myself. _Have your fun while you can, it's about to end._ The lock clicked and I turned the knob slowly as I listened again, noticing no change in the sounds. I pulled my camera up, ready, in position, and pushed the door open with my foot, snapping pictures as it swung.  
 _Ah! My eyes!_ I grimaced at the sight in front of me of the forty-something overweight man, with his ugly naked ass in the air, grinding himself into the backside of the bimbo beneath him, her legs over his shoulders.

"Smile." I said with a cheeky grin, clicking the button on my camera. They scrambled to cover themselves up and I just kept taking photos. "Your wife thanks you for this impromptu photo shoot," I quipped. "Your divorce papers will be in the mail. Have a nice day!" Ending with a wave, I slammed the door behind me. I quickly stashed my camera back into my bag, making sure to zip it closed, before I dashed back the way I came, seconds before the angry husband came roaring out of the room behind me. I grabbed the railing of the staircase and swung myself around, managing to avoid throwing myself into the wall again. A low humming sounded in my ear and I felt something vibrate in my bag.

"Wait, come back-please!" I could hear the voice of the guy calling me as I hurried down the stairs.

"I'll pay you double what she paid?!" I hit the button in my ear and rolled my eyes.

"Now's _really_ not a good time." I said quickly, then swore loudly as I tripped, as predicted, on the last step and landed face down on the cement. Not having time to check for scrapes, I picked myself up and continued moving, just as a hand grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me back around.

"Amy? Is everything alright?" The voice in my ear asked as I twisted my shoulder in an attempt to escape the old guys grip. How he even moved so fast down those stairs I will never know!

"Give me that camera you little bitch!" He roared at me.

"Oh I'm fine," I said in a breath, ignoring what the old guy had said and grabbed the fat wrist that was wrapped around my arm. At the same time that I brought my knee up to my chest, I dug my nails into his flesh. I shoved my foot forward, striking him in the chest and launching myself backwards. I fell on my butt less than a foot away from him. It wasn't the most spectacular stunt, but it got the job done. The old guy just stumbled slightly, stunned a bit, and I stood up as quickly as I could, making a mad dash for my car. "Just doing a little photography. You know," I said with a smirk. "For fun." I slammed my car door and hit the gas in one movement. As I drove away I let out a sigh. It had gotten a little more violent than intended, and I was still having trouble tripping over my own feet when I was hurrying, but I had the shots I'd needed and it was always more interesting when their true colours came out.

"Uh huh, sure you were." The voice in my ear said sarcastically and I rolled my eyes.

"What can I do for you, Riles? You know I'm on the clock."

"Yeah I know." He said with a laugh. "There was a call for you a little while ago, a personal call." I frowned and slowed my speed.

"Personal? Who's calling me at work?"

"It was your sister. She didn't say what it was about, but she sounded a bit upset. I think you might want to call her back." Lauren? She never called me at work. This couldn't be good news.

"Thanks Riley." I told him thoughtfully. "Hey, since I have you, can you put a note on the _Mallory_ file for me: photo evidence obtained."

"Sure thing. Hey, was he…"

"Yep."

"And she was…"

"Uh huh."

"Damn. I don't know how he does it. Anyway, I'll see you when you get back." I ended the call, removed the earpiece and tossed it into my bag before fishing around for my personal cell phone. I glanced at it quickly and swerved the car as I saw the multiple calls flashing on my screen.

"Shit!" I swore and pulled the car onto the side of the road, deciding it wasn't worth risking my life. I took another look and saw missed calls galore. I speed dialled the number and hit the speaker button.

" _Amy!_ Thank god! Where the fuck have you been all day?! Why the _fuck_ haven't you answered my calls?!" The shrill voice called into my car.

"Shit, calm down Lauren!" I yelled back. "I was working! You know I don't answer when I'm on a job."

"Fuck Amy, this is an emergency! I fucking _needed_ you!"

" _Lauren._ Calm. The. Fuck. Down." I placated her. "What's going on? What happened?" I asked slowly, calmly, trying to get her to talk like a person and not yell at me like a psycho. I heard her take a breath.

"It-it's my friend." She said with a slight quiver in her voice. "I think she's…dead." I felt the stunned silence in the air.

"What?!"

* * *

 **Authors Note** : Still not entirely happy with this but it's been sitting on my laptop for so long that I needed to do something with it. Plus, I've read it way too many times to edit it properly. So I would love some constructive criticism.

I'm also not sure whether this will stay a fanfic. I may end up turning it into general fiction since the characters are so different to the show… It is au though, so we'll see how we go.

Not sure how often it'll get updated, but I'll be continuing it for NaNoWriMo this year, so we should have a decent amount done by the end of the year.

Hope you enjoy it!

Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Faking It, the character and stories belong to me in no way shape or form. Any and all error, grammatical, continuities, mathematically or otherwise are, however, completely my own.

 **You'll find out in this chapter what I mean about character differences. That said, I do love the series and intend to keep them as close to the originals as possible.**

 **Nabians: Aww, thank you for the review! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! This one has been holding onto me since I started it, so hopefully I get a chance to get to the end that I've envisioned! Yes, I actually have most of the story all planned out, which is a change. As for Lauren's friend… you are indeed very smart, however I will neither confirm nor deny that. No spoilers ;)**

 **Anne: I am absolutely, 100% Karmy fanatic. So you can pretty much guarantee that if I write something it, will have a happily ever after with the two of them a couple. That said… it will be a bumpy road in this case. I hope you stick with it though, I assure you, it will be worth the wait!**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

"Shit." I swore in annoyance and kicked the wheel of my suitcase in an attempt to remove it from the ditch. The stupid thing broke off in front of me. "Fuck!" I yelled out, throwing my head back in frustration. Needless to say, I wasn't in the best of moods.  
I threw the thing at the curb, ignoring it for now and pulled the next one from the trunk of my car with a glance toward the house I was parked in front of.  
 _No, don't help. I'm fine out here. In the cold. By myself!_ I thought bitterly. Slamming the trunk shut, I grabbed the handle of the good suitcase, and that of the now _bad_ suitcase and dragged them both behind me. The broken one grated along heavily, making way too much noise for two in the morning, and likely damaging the thing the more I pulled. I heaved it to the front door with a grunt and rang the bell, smirking at the loud chime that probably woke everyone within half a mile. I waited about three seconds before hitting the buzzer again, and again and again, continuing this until the door swung open and a hand jerked out, slapping mine away from the bell. I simply smirked at the disgruntled look on my mother's face as she glared at me.

"Well hello to you too, Farrah." I said cheerfully. She grimaced at the ease in which her name slipped from my tongue. Yes, clearly there was bad blood between us. She stepped back, not bothering to invite me inside and headed toward the kitchen. "Thank you for inviting me in." I deadpanned and stepped inside, dragging the corpses of my luggage with me. I left them by the front door and followed my mother's direction. Glancing around the room, I let out a grunt in disgust: I had not been looking forward to coming back here. It brought back too many bad memories. Too many arguments, fights, slamming doors, oh and of course, me walking out in anger. But, all of that was behind me now. Well, mostly.

"So," I said as I took a seat at the kitchen table while the woman I once called mommy turned the kettle on. "How's the family?" I asked, feigning interest. She looked at me with blatant contempt and ignored the question, continuing in the chore she had set herself of making coffee. I rolled my eyes and took my phone out of my pocket.

 _I'm here._ I texted Lauren. _Farrah's downstairs. Help. Me. –Amy_

I didn't bother waiting for a response and just watched the woman idle around the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. She let out a sigh as I drummed my nails on the table. We didn't look at each other directly. It wasn't always like this: tension and angry looks. There was a time when I actually wanted her to be a part of my life, when I _yearned_ for her approval and love.  
 _Not anymore though._ I thought to myself bitterly.

"Lauren, finally." Her relieved voice brought me from my wandering mind and I looked to the doorway, watching my half-asleep step-sister toddle into the room, dragging her feet. She looked at me warily and collapsed into the chair beside me.

"What, no hug?" I asked, annoyingly chipper with my arms out and a smirk on my face. She glared in response. I chuckled at her dreary disposition, loving the irony that _I_ was the peppy one today, while everyone else was grumpy and moody. Maybe it was a little _too_ early to have arrived.

"Coffee first. Then talk." Lauren groaned.

"Okay then, I guess I'll just go put my stuff away." I stood, not wanting to exchange awkward glances until Farrah felt conscious enough to feign politeness.

"You're in Lauren's room." I heard the drawling voice tell me as I exited and paused for a moment. I nodded in response and went to retrieve my luggage. It had been four years since I'd stepped foot in this house, and a full ten years since I'd lived here. The last time I'd left, I had sworn I would never come back. Now, I guess, I was breaking that promise. It wasn't the first time I'd told my mother I wouldn't speak to her or see her ever again, and it probably wouldn't be the last. She had this way of drawing out the worst in me.  
My suitcases banged loudly on each step as I pulled them upstairs, toward the bedrooms. I looked to the open door that had once been my own and now contained gym equipment. It had taken my _mother_ less than six months from the time I first left to live with my dad, to turn my room into her personal office. A final _fuck you_ to me.  
The room opposite was Lauren's. Unsurprisingly, not much had changed since I'd last been here either, what with Lauren living at the dorms now. I didn't blame her for getting out the second she could, hell I did.  
After a quick glance at the photos displayed on her dresser, I shoved my luggage inside the wardrobe and shut the door, deciding I'd deal with it later. Besides, who knows how long I could handle staying here.

My heavy boots stamped loudly on the stairs as I headed back down and paused at the doorway to the kitchen. Farrah was sitting at the table next to Lauren, they both nursed their coffee's and seemed more awake than in the couple of minutes it took me to go upstairs. I retook my seat, pleased to see a coffee ready for me and sighted, steeling myself for the fight that would surely start now that my mother and I were in the same room again. For the time being, I sipped my drink and ignored her. We stared at each other, slowly drinking coffee and swapping glances. The tension in the room was overwhelming, choking me like a thick poisonous fog.

"So," I was surprised to hear my mother's voice break the silence. "How is…your father and his… _friend_ these days?" She asked with barely concealed bitterness.

 _And there it is._

"They're both doing perfectly well. You know, we were real sorry you couldn't make it to the ceremony. It was such a lovely wedding." I patronized her with a dreamy expression on my face, taking myself back to the day. "Beach wedding of course. All the guests wore whatever they wanted as long as it wasn't formal, but dad wore this beautiful white suit… David was in a matching black one," I directed my comments to Lauren. "They just looked so cute together; and when they were announced-"

"That's _enough_ Amy!" She interrupted me, her face red with anger. I saw Lauren nervously glance between us.

"Well you asked."

"I was merely being polite. Perhaps you would have learned to do the same if you had stayed at home, instead of running off after your good for nothing father." I sneered at her. "Good, wholesome, _Godly_ lessons is what _I_ would have driven into you."

"Ha!" I barked, causing both women to jump slightly. "This coming from the woman who told her _fourteen_ year old daughter, she was dead to her!" I yelled back, heated anger now coursing through me.

"It wasn't _natural_! If you had only listened I could have _helped,_ I could have _fixed-_ "

" _Fixed me_?!" I threw back at her in rage. "I was _fourteen!_ I didn't need to be _fixed_! I needed a mother who would talk to me, not tell me that what I was feeling was _sinful_ , not that I was evil, ungodly or fucking crime against nature! I needed to be _listened_ to! I didn't need 'help' from some fucking reprograming bullshit!" I breathed out the hate that had built inside me since the last time I had vented her own words back at her.

"You could have just _listened_ -"

"No!" I said, standing up and slamming my coffee cup to the table; the contents slipped over the sides and created a nice puddle around the mug. " _You_ listen: I. Am. _Gay._ " I spelled out to her like the child she was. She grimaced at the word. "I'm _gay_! I'm a fucking lesbian! I _like_ girls! I'm _attracted_ to girls! I've _always_ been attracted to girls and I always _will_ be! And you know what?" I said, throwing my hands up in the air, done with this argument. "I am _not_ sorry. I _like_ being gay, it's who I am. And I _refuse_ to feel guilty for some that, according to you, _your God,_ " I pointed at her, accentuating the words. "Created." I pushed the chair away with my foot, letting it clatter loudly like a full stop and stormed upstairs.

I paced the room like a caged tiger, the painful fury overwhelming me. I'd had this argument with her before. I _always_ had this argument with her. And until she either accepted me as who I am or I decided to forcefully supress that part of my self, we would probably continue to argue over my sexuality until we were both blue in the face. It never mattered how it started: dad, school, girls, _boys_ … something would set one of us off and we would be drawn back into the same fight, throwing the same punches over and over again in a never ending circle of pain and resentment. I knew I was partly to blame, I _knew_ I could just forgive her for what she did to me, just accept _her_ as the way she is, stop dancing this same dance, stop letting her get to me… but goddammit, she's my fucking mother. She shouldn't hate me. She shouldn't wish I'd never been born, or she at least shouldn't tell me so.

"Amy?" Lauren poked her head in, looking weary and worried. I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm myself down as she stepped into the room, looking at me like I might lash out at her.

"I'm sorry." I told her seriously. "I didn't mean to start that fight, it's just every time she- she…" Lauren placed her hands over my flailing ones.

"I know." She told me remorsefully. And she did. She knew what my mother did to me, how she hurt me every time she spoke, how she could goad this demon out of me. She knew that I didn't really want to lash back at her, goad her into saying what she says. Lauren also knew that _I_ knew how ironic it was that we would play this game; that part of the reason why we did so was because we were the same. No words were needed.

"You wanna go get drunk?"

"Fuck yes!" I laughed out with a sigh, glad to no longer be the housebound teenager I once was and able to get as far away as possible from my mother and her unrealistic expectations, and her goddamn bitterness.

* * *

Lauren was true to her word. We got so fucking smashed that I couldn't remember half the night, let alone how I got home. There are two things I could assume: one, that I had fun, and two, I did _not_ get laid. Unfortunately. The getting laid part I mean. Having fun is _always_ a good thing. I'd ascertained that I'd had fun due to the presence of one _massive_ hangover and the taste of some sort of sweet girly drink still on my lips. I only ever drank sweet drinks when I'm seriously drunk and trying to flirt with girls. The getting laid part called for the unfortunately; I knew I hadn't since I was still wearing last night's clothes. And my underwear. I would have _liked_ to have gotten laid though, since my last relationship had ended a _long_ while ago. It wasn't exactly serious, at least _I_ didn't think it was serious. Sure she was nice, and I was attracted to her and yeah, we'd been exclusive for a couple of months… I guess that probably counts as serious in some people's books, but I was never _really_ serious with her. I mean, I _told_ her that up front, that I liked her, but I didn't feel that chemistry with her, that special feeling I'd always craved. The _spark_. She said she was fine with it, but I guess after a couple of months of dating, people expect certain things from you. I know I was partially to blame for the break up, well, since I'd ended it, technically I was _completely_ to blame, but two months of dating with no chemistry, for me, it wasn't enough. You can't have a relationship with someone based solely on friendship and attraction. At least, that's not what I wanted.

I groaned painfully, shielding my eyes from the blinding light bursting through the window like fucking flames. I hated the morning after. It was always awful. And painful.

"How much did I drink?" I moaned, assuming my sister was the body lying next to me and I hadn't murdered some innocent girl. Or my mother.

"I don't know!" Lauren complained gruffly, her shrill voice cut through my ears and felt like blades.

"Ahh!" I cried and covered them. "Not so loud!"

" _You_ not so loud! My head hurts!" She retorted in complaint.

I opened my eyes a fraction and could only see the white blankets on Lauren's bed in front of me, a large Lauren-shaped lump next to me. I poked at it and it moved.

"Sto-op!" She groaned in annoyance and slapped my hand away.

"Ah, so it lives!" I mocked and poked again. "Hey what time is it?"

"Um," She said after moaning again and rolling over. "After two."

"PM?" I cried in astonishment. "Shit! I had stuff to do today!"

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault you're hung over! You're the one that suggested margarita's after we'd done those vodka shots!"

"Sounds like me." I muttered and sat up, smacking my lips, tasting the horrid effect of a lot of alcohol and a nights worth of the gross aftertaste. "Do you have anything stronger than ibuprofen around here?" I looked at her as she sat up and would have laughed had it not been for the killer headache: her hair was a complete rat's nest.

"I dunno, I don't exactly stay here much." She opened a draw next to the bed as I grunted a response and got out. I hated having a hangover, it sucked and put me in an instant bad mood for the day. I needed coffee. And food. And some _really_ strong pain killers.

While Lauren rattled around in the draw full of her old junk, I stripped last night's shirt and pants off, leaving me in my underwear as I opened Lauren's closet and grimaced at the mess of my clothes, created when, in my fury, I had thrown everything around looking for something to wear to get wasted in. Now I was left trying to find something decent to wear out of the piles strewn around. I'd have to clean it up at some point, but that was for after the hangover had finished torturing me.

"Aha!" Lauren exclaimed, holding a white bottle up to the light: our saviour. "I found some." She turned to me and, after emptying a couple of pills into her hand, threw the bottle at me. If I had not been hung over, I probably still would _not_ have caught the bottle. It hit me square in the forehead and fell on the floor. I simply looked at her incredulously.

"Really?" I asked as she giggled slightly. I shook my head and picked up the bottle, along with some clothes. "I bags the first shower!" I said loudly, hurting my head at the same time, and bolted to the bathroom, locking the door before she even registered my movement.

"Fuck you!" She called through the door and I laughed loudly at her.

"Ow." I mumbled a second later and looked in the mirror as the reverse me put her hand to her head.

* * *

"Why do you think she's dead?" I asked the step-sister sitting at the kitchen table next to me.

After showering to the point of almost no hot water, I had dressed and considered going back to sleep in my nice, warm, comfortable bed, but Lauren needed me and I was still yet to hear the whole story behind her barrage of phone calls a few days earlier. So instead of catching some much needed shut eye, I was sitting back in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in my hands as well as a bagel slathered in cream cheese in front of me, with Lauren in one chair and the voice of my disapproving mother coming from the other room.

"It's the only explanation." She told me after heaving a worn out sigh. "She wouldn't have run off like this, I _know_ her." I nodded, ignoring the huff of indignation that could be heard coming from the lounge.

"She hasn't done this before?"

"No." Lauren said firmly, shaking her head, a look of deep worry on her face.

"Okay. Let's start from the beginning. How long has she been missing?"

"A week. Give or take a few days."

"It's important to be exact Lauren."

"I don't know!" She whined. "The last time I saw her was at that god-awful frat party her roommate dragged us to. That was on the Friday. We don't usually text when we go to frat blow outs but she should have sent me something by the end of the next day. She was driving back to Austin to spend the week at her parents place for her brother's birthday and _should_ have arrived Saturday afternoon but after talking to her parent's it turns out she never _did_!" As Lauren spoke her voice began to sound more desperate. "She's my best friend Amy; we talk to each other every day. If she was going to go off on some whim she would have told me about it I _know_ she would!" I sighed. She was clearly troubled by this.

"Okay," I said, trying to soothe her. "I get it. You said she wasn't dating anyone at the moment?" Lauren shook her head. "Right, so what makes you think she's, you know, _dead_?" I cringed at the blunt word, wishing there was a way to soften this.

"I looked in her room and none of her clothes or belongings were gone. If she ran off she would've taken _something_. The cops haven't located her car," Lauren ticked the list of suspicious circumstances off on her fingers and with each one I became more convinced of her theory, adding to the weight of worry sitting on my chest. "Her phone is turned off- she _never_ turns her phone off and they can't even _locate_ her phone, her parent's haven't heard from her- Amy, she _loves_ her family, she would _never_ just take off without a word to her _parents_!" Lauren was becoming really distressed and I placed my hands on her shoulders.

"Breathe." I directed her. She did as I said, taking slow deep breaths and trying to calm herself down.

"Oh honestly, you're getting worked up over nothing." I tried to stifle the angry growl that was threatening to leave my throat as my mother strode into the kitchen, brandishing her opinions about as if they were asked for. "She's a college student, she's probably just run off with someone, _or_ , she's lying in a ditch somewhere with a needle in her arm, it happens all the time you know." I looked up at Farrah in shock.

"She's not a fucking drug addict!" I was surprised that Lauren had beaten me to yelling at the woman. I looked at the now standing and tearing up girl before making a quick decision to diffuse this before another fight broke out.

"Uh okay, that is a _really_ wild accusation to make from, you know, _no_ evidence." I shot at my mother and walked in front of Lauren, shielding her from the abuse. "Why don't you take me to see your college. Maybe someone there knows something." I watched her face fall back to the sad look she had been sporting since I'd arrived as she nodded.

"Yeah, it's worth a shot." She turned and headed out the door. I threw a disgusted look to the woman who had birthed me before snatching my bagel and following the depressed girl out.

* * *

"I thought things were good between you two." I commented, having noticed the spiteful way Farrah had looked at Lauren. After a quiet car ride where she'd simply directed me to her college and stared out the window, likely trapped in her own memories and thoughts, I'd quickly located the coffee shop to satisfy my need for caffeine (having barely started the one at the house before our sudden need to escape), before seating ourselves in the large quad outside the dorms.

"They were." Lauren said with a sigh. "We used to get along great. Starting college put a bit of distance between us, but it was never like this."

"So what happened?" She sighed again.

"A lot happened." She stated with a bitter laugh. "But ever since this disappearance, it's as if she's taking it all out on me."

"What does your dad say about it?"

"Oh," Lauren waved it off, shaking her head. "He's too busy with his mistress to notice anything that happens at home anymore." She glanced at me and shook her head at the look of _complete shock_ on my face. "Don't ask."

"I'm sorry, _what?_ You can't just say your dad's _having an affair_ and tell me not to ask!" I told her, my eyes wide in astonishment. "Dish!" This earned an exasperated groan from my sister.

"Ugh fine! I don't really know much though." Lauren proceeded to detail how she had returned from college one day to find an envelope containing photos of her father. According to the letter, Farrah had hired someone to find out if Bruce was cheating on her. He was. Lauren explained that she didn't know how long it had been going on, but that Farrah knew about it and had known for several months, but apart from the growing distance and obvious tension, there didn't seem to be any fallout.

"Jeez." I said, shaking my head. "I thought you were supposed to be keeping me up to date on all the gossip." I joked. She gave me a pointed look.

"Oh I'm sorry. I've been a little busy what with my best friend being _dead_ and all!"

"Sorry." I sighed. "Okay, so I get why there's tension in the house, but why does that include you all of the sudden?"

"Well… I think it's because of you."

"Me?" I asked in surprise.

"Yeah, ever since you came out and moved in with your dad, Farrah's had this thing against gays."

"Seriously?!" I was incredulous. "Dad I get, _me_ I can understand… a little. But _all_ gays? Really?"

"And ever since I started hanging out with people from college, she's been acting different. It's like she's completely anti-gay."

"Wait, you're not…"

"No!" Lauren cried, sounding offended.

"Okay okay." I held my hands up in surrender.

"But my best friend is." She paused and frowned again. "Or, was."

"And you guys weren't… more than friendly?"

"Amy I'm fucking straight okay!"

"Just checking." I shook my head in disgust. "God this is so messed up, she was never homophobic before. Sure she had issues, but this…" I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

"Anyway, Farrah's got it into her head that she _deserved_ to be… whatever happened to her. Or one of many different theories she's thrown around recently. Apparently today she's a drug addict." She said bitterly.

"I'm really sorry Lauren." I told her solemnly and placed a hand on her arm. "I never meant for any of this to come back to you."

"I know. It's not your fault. You can't help who you are. I just wish there was some way to find out what happened." She gave me a look and I suddenly realised why she had asked me to come back.

"No, no no no Lauren I'm not a licenced detective, hell I'm barely a trainee! I'm basically a glorified photographer!"

"Please Amy, I need to know! One way or another, it's killing me that people think she just abandoned her studies and everyone who loves her! The cops have done what they can but they've come up with nothing! Her parents are distraught!" Lauren gripped my arm tightly and looked at me with such pain and need, I didn't know how to turn her down.

"What makes you think I can find something the cops haven't?"

"You're smart! And people talk to you, people who wouldn't talk to the cops! And you see things others don't!" I groaned, knowing everything she said was true, but still, she was buttering me up. I suddenly hated myself.

"Lauren I… I don't want to get your hopes up." I shook my head as she continued to look at me pleadingly. I could feel her staring me down like a cat. "Okay!" I finally snapped at the tension, holding my hands up and resigning myself to my fate." Alright I'll do it."

"Thank you!" She squealed, throwing her arms around me. I could feel the relief coming off of her in waves.

"I can't promise anything though." Lauren let go and nodded feverishly while I sighed. "So much for my vacation." I muttered.

* * *

 **Authors Note:** I'm sure you're surprised to see the next chapter so soon! Well actually, I have six chapters already written from last year, all I'm doing now is rewriting and editing them. So once we hit that, there'll probably be a bit of a wait for more. We'll see how we go.  
Thank you all for your amazing feedback, I live off of it! Seriously, I don't get paid for this so comments are the only thing keeping me going! ;)  
Hope you guys are enjoying it!  
Thanks!


End file.
